


part

by rincewitch



Series: Warrior of Moonlight [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Cunnilingus, F/F, FFxivWrite2020, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020, Vaginal Fingering, brief discussion of past trauma, but mostly just fluff and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rincewitch/pseuds/rincewitch
Summary: ffxiv write 2020 day 14: part“Do you think Sadu was flirting with me?” Rinh says, parting the flaps of the tent they’d set up near Mol Iloh to let Y’shtola clamber into it.Y’shtola raises an eyebrow.“I mean,” says Rinh, ducking into the tent herself, “All that stuff about how brightly her soul burns when she faces me, never has she felt such bliss in defeat, and so on.”Y’shtola shrugs off her coat. “You know more of the Xaela than I do, ‘Khagan’; however, it is striking that Magnai made his clumsy overtures to me immediately after I trounced him in battle.”Rinh laughs. “I’m pretty sure he asks literally every woman he meets if she’s his Nhaama. He asked Cirina if she was his Nhaama. He asked me if I was his Nhaama. Twice.”“Twice?”“First when he was having us do chores as tribute and it seemed easier to just play along. And then again when someone— presumably Hien, since Lyse would never do me dirty like that— let it slip that my people are called ‘Keepers of the Moon’ and he got entirely the wrong idea.”“Oh dear,” Y’shtola says.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Series: Warrior of Moonlight [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905535
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43
Collections: #FFxivWrite2020 Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge, Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection





	part

“Do you think Sadu was flirting with me?” Rinh says, parting the flaps of the tent they’d set up near Mol Iloh to let Y’shtola clamber into it.

Y’shtola raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” says Rinh, ducking into the tent herself, “All that stuff about how brightly her soul burns when she faces me, never has she felt such bliss in defeat, and so on.”

Y’shtola shrugs off her coat. “You know more of the Xaela than I do, ‘Khagan’; however, it _is_ striking that Magnai made his clumsy overtures to me _immediately_ after I trounced him in battle.”

Rinh laughs. “I’m pretty sure he asks literally every woman he meets if she’s his Nhaama. He asked Cirina if she was his Nhaama. He asked _me_ if I was his Nhaama. _Twice.”_

“Twice?”

“First when he was having us do chores as tribute and it seemed easier to just play along. And then again when _someone—_ presumably Hien, since Lyse would never do me dirty like that— let it slip that my people are called ‘Keepers of the Moon’ and he got _entirely_ the wrong idea.”

“Oh dear,” Y’shtola says; she’d already stripped down to her smalls, so she goes over to Rinh to help her take off her much more complicated armor. It’s an unspoken ritual between them when they were in the field— Y’shtola found herself intimately acquainted with each suit of armor Rinh wore well before their friendship had blossomed into love, at which point Y’shtola became intimately acquainted with everything under the armor, too. “Although… I’m hardly an expert on traditional Xaelic cosmology, but given Magnai’s extremely patronizing claim that as the Azim’s chosen, the Oronir are responsible for looking after the other children of Nhaama, wouldn’t he believe that the moon’s keeper is… the sun?”

Rinh snorts. “Oh my _gods._ I feel like I’d make for a pretty substandard sun, given that I didn’t even live on a diurnal schedule until I was, like… nineteen,” she says, as Y’shtola frees her hands from her gauntlets.

“On the other hand,” says Y’shtola, a sly smile on her face as she unbuckles the straps attaching Rinh’s greaves and cuisses to her legs, “It casts me being a _Seeker of the Sun_ in rather a new light, doesn’t it?”

“Hah. I’d get to lord it over Magnai, too, which is hilarious.” Rinh starts unbuttoning her surcoat. “We both know I’m more of a Menphina than an Azeyma, though.”

Y’shtola looks up from unlacing Rinh’s boots. “You won’t know whether it suits you until you until you’ve tried your hand at playing the part.” She pulls a boot off and gently tosses it into the tent’s far corner, where it is quickly joined by its fellow. “What would you have your Nhaama do for you, O mighty Azim?”

Rinh, predictably, is left utterly flustered by this, her blushing cheeks darkening so much her freckles nearly vanish. “I… er… Shtola, I…” She takes a deep breath. “To clarify: are you, in fact, asking _me_ to top _you?”_

“If you’d like,” Y’shtola says gently, mindful of the line between making Rinh _flustered_ and making her actually uncomfortable.

“Alright,” Rinh says, lifting her chemise over her head, “I’ll give it a try…” She reclines on the bedroll, shaking herself free of her trousers as Y’shtola, kneeling before her, pulls them off from the other end. She’s silent for a moment or two; the only sounds Y’shtola hears are her own breathing, the wind gently rippling the tent canvas, and, muffled in the distance, somebody playing a Mol folk song the morin khuur.

“So…” Rinh murmurs, finally, “What do you want me to do?” She looks up at Y’shtola expectantly. Then she realizes what she just said. “...and so the experiment failed more or less instantaneously,” she says, laughing.

Y’shtola leans in to give Rinh a kiss. “It’s quite all right,” she says, when she pulls back briefly, “What _I_ want, then, is to take care of you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed.” She idly traces a finger over the long diagonal scar across Rinh’s chest— Zenos’s handiwork, after that debacle at Rhalgr’s Reach. Rinh doesn’t mind when Y’shtola touches her scars; they never fail to evoke any number of tender feelings: admiration for Rinh’s sheer resilience, each scar proof that, in spite of everything, she was here to stay. Cold rage at those who had _dared_ to hurt her so. A fierce adoration for her unfaltering commitment to the world’s betterment even in the most difficult of circumstances. A yearning to protect her, even if on the battlefield she was generally the one protecting Y’shtola.

When Rinh’s hands find their way to Y’shtola’s body, caressing her waist, cupping her breasts, she carefully avoids Y’shtola’s own scar from the Reach, the mirror image of Rinh’s. When Rinh’s fingers had once brushed across it by accident, Y’shtola winced away from her touch, feather-light though it was. She felt silly and not a bit hypocritical, since she was such an admirer of Rinh’s scars, but Rinh, of course, responded with understanding and kindness, reeling her back in from the memory of the Reach burning and the searing pain of cold steel being driven through her chest.

“Shtola?” Rinh says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Merely lost in my thoughts for a moment,” she answers. “However,” she adds, toying with the waistband of Rinh’s pantalettes, “I’ve found something in the here and now worth my _undivided_ attention.” She pulls at the waistband, peeling the pantalettes past the curve of Rinh’s hips, before sliding them the rest of the way off her legs and casting them aside, rather haphazardly, in vaguely the same direction Rinh’s boots had gone. Rinh is entirely bare, now, save for her stockings, which Y’shtola, frankly, had no particular desire to take off. Instead, her hands go right back up Rinh’s legs, towards the solar heat already blooming between them. She runs a finger along Rinh’s folds, unsurprised but still pleased to discover she was already slick with want-- so she cuts to the chase, sliding three fingers into her entrance. When she curves them just so, she hears a sharp exhalation of breath; she looks up to find Rinh’s face flushed, her eyes half-lidded, biting her lip in a losing battle to not make the sort of undignified sound easily heard through the thin walls of a tent.

Good, Y’shtola thinks, she’s just where she wants her. She begins thrusting her fingers in and out at a steady pace; Rinh’s breathing hitches as she continues her attempt to stay quiet, resulting in a chain of quiet, pleased noises that Y’shtola found adorable. And then, when she feels Rinh teetering on the precipice--

\--she pulls her fingers away, leaving the Warrior of Light clenching at nothing, writhing on the bedroll. _“Shtolaaaaaaaa,”_ she whines, turning her lover’s name into a high-pitched and frantic plea. One glance at her expression is enough for Y’shtola to confirm that Rinh is _thoroughly_ enjoying herself, though-- she always had been drawn to the idea of having to _earn_ release.

She puts her hand on Rinh’s cheek, leaving a trail of Rinh’s own wetness across her face before Y’shtola’s fingers find her lips. “Clean them off,” Y’shtola murmured, “And I shall _consider_ letting you finish.”

Rinh eagerly parts her lips and takes Y’shtola’s fingers into her mouth, since, honestly, when she was in a mood like _this,_ getting her to put something in her mouth wasn’t exactly a hard sell-- Y’shtola probably hadn’t needed to say anything at all, but she enjoyed playing her role to the hilt nonetheless. Rinh, for her part, sucks and licks at Y’shtola’s fingers zealously, fangs just _barely_ grazing Y’shtola’s knuckles, eyes closed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, hair in disarray, lipstick hopelessly smudged.

“Good girl,” Y’shtola says, withdrawing her fingers, wiping them off on Rinh’s stockings. With her dry hand, she scratches behind Rinh’s ear, prompting her to sigh happily.

She scoots backwards a bit, and puts her hands on Rinh’s knees, easing her legs apart.

She presses her lips to Rinh’s clit, and gives her what she so dearly wanted.

***

It was Y’shtola’s last full day in the Crystarium, although not on the First-- she still has business to attend to in Slitherbough and Fanow before her departure. Still, she wouldn’t be seeing Rinh’s suite at the Pendants again, and, though that was far from the most important thing she was saying farewell to, since obviously Rinh herself would be back on the Source with her, but she still felt the faintest tinge of melancholy, like she’d reached the end of a good story, and everything left was the epilogue.

“So,” says Rinh, pouring a cup of tea for Y’shtola and a mug of coffee for herself, “You remember those crystals I found in Amaurot, right?”

Y’shtola nods. “The confirmation of our theory that you had the soul of the Fourteenth member of the Convocation, yes.”

“Well,” says Rinh, grinning a fangy grin, “You’ll _never_ guess what my title was.”


End file.
